Where are your glasses; or Brain Farts I Have Known

Some mornings, it can be really hard to make coffee before you’ve had any coffee.

This was very common at Taco Bell when I worked there. You’d hurry into the walk-in cooler and stop. Look at everything. Be perplexed. Wait about ten seconds. Exit and ask out loud why you went in there.

Everyone did this.

We got a mini van a bit ago and I’m still getting used to not needing the key in the ignition. One leisure Sunday morning after I dropped my family off to the bus station for their trek up to Taipei, I went to my favorite cafe for a latte and reading the Dope. After a while, it was time to go so I went out and the van was gone, gone, gone.

I checked my pockets and realized to my horror that the van keys weren’t there so I obviously had left them in the cup holder and forgotten to take them inside. Damn. Now I was going to have to call my wife to help file a police report.

Except in the parking lot was my scooter. I had forgotten than I had driven all the way home before deciding to go for coffee, so I had switched vehicles.

I have left the keys in the scooter ignition too many times. If I park it and then do anything on my phone I’ll get distracted and forget to take it out. Once, I did that in the bus station parking lot and fortunately some nice person took the keys out and dropped them into the pocket thing. Now I’ve trained myself to take the keys out first, no matter what.

At Burning Man it is really difficult to get a locksmith on the playa. Even if you have AAA membership they won’t go off pavement, even though it is perfectly flat. Therefore, the couple times during the week I get into the truck, I have developed the habit of staring at the keys in my hand as I push the lock doors button and slam the door shut.

This has carried through to life off the playa.

We call those Dog Moments instead of Senior Moments after years of watching the dogs do the same thing – sans the question. They just wag their tail and jump on mom instead.

My theory on this when it happens to me is I walked too fast for the thought or idea to keep up. If I go back to the place I had the thought/idea, it’s still hanging in the air and I remember.

I’ve owned a number of convertibles in my life; an MG Midget, several Jeep Wranglers, an Acura Integra. Every one of my convertibles at one time or another was left outside with the top down when it rained.

This happened in 80’s when I was working as a super in one of the down town Helsinki Apartment buildings.

On mornings of the 1st of May, which someone knows is the workers holiday in Europe. I had to raise the flag for that and our custom was that all my friends and siblings gather to my place and we go from there to celebrate after I’ve raised the flag.

So on of these days I open the door to my friends to come in and tell them that unfortunately I cannot go out with them as I cannot find my glasses. Did I mention that I used to be blind as a bat without those. So people come in and all hear my predicament and then my younger sister comes in. She’s fussy and asks a glass for her beer and when I open my dishdrying cabinet I find that my glasses sit there on the self. Presumably the night before when I stumbled drunk as a skunk to home I had decided to wash my glasses and let them dry.

Many years ago, when I was living on Long Island, I drove into the City for several destinations in various locations. I parked the car near the first location on E. 86th Street, and took the subway to the other locations. When it was time to go home, I went back to 86th St. to get my car. I walked up and down that damn street, then tried adjacent streets, but no car. Panic was starting to ensue.

Or course I was looking on WEST 86th, not East. If you know anything about Manhattan, you know that East and West 86th Streets are a long schlep from each other.

That’s what I came to say.

My wife came to pick me up at work. She parked in the garage attached to my office, we got something to eat in the food court (multi-use building), and then went to get the car and go home. The elevator stops basically service two parking levels - we get off on the correct floor, walk up the stairs and then wander through the level looking for the car. No where to be found.

Why did we walk up the stairs? Because my wife remembered that she had walked up the stairs to get to the elevator. Which of course means we should have walked down to get back to where the car was.

Friday after lunch.

Said good-bye to my husband and walked out the door holding the grocery list and pen in my right hand, 2CHF coin in my left pocket, pulling the babuska cart.

Got half way to the store before I realized that I did not have my key, phone, wallet or mask, and probably wouldn’t get far with the 2 CHF in my pocket. Not one of my finer moments. Also meant I was even later for my meeting, which I thought started at 2, but actually started at 1:30. Two brain farts for the price of one!

I have been on the phone with my wife and she has had to look something up on her phone. Cue much noise of shuffling papers and moving items before she said ‘I can’t find my phone’ .

Twice now I have strained lumps out gravy and a sauce by pouring it through a sieve over the sink, and I quite successfully extracted the lumps.

I cannot remember names on the spot , I can tell you all about the person I am thinking of, the name just will not come out my mouth, even people who I worked with for years names get stuck.

The other day I walked into the kitchen to get a spoon or something, and opened the fridge instead of the drawer where I keep the silverware.

This is no longer an issue now that I have a car with push-button start, but with my old car I’d be stopped at a red light, put my hand on my leg, and notice my keys aren’t in my pocket where I always keep them. “Oh no, where are my keys?” I’d think, before realizing they’re in the ignition.

No, you didn’t.

Just the other day, I went out to the farmer’s market.

Now, in the summer, I wear shirts without pockets, so I keep my cell phone in a holster. But, on weekends, I wear cargo shorts and use the cell phone pocket instead.

So I was out and I reached into the cell phone pocket. It was empty. It wasn’t in any of my other pockets, either. I thought it might have fallen out of the cell phone pocket (I don’t trust it). I worried and checked the only place I where I might have fallen out, but no luck.

So I go home and decide to ring my phone. It rings!

It was in my holster.

Which was attached to my belt.

Worst part was that I actually put my hand on the holster several times when I thought the phone was missing and didn’t make the connection.

Oh my - I have been doing this regularly! I open the pantry door instead of the glasses cabinet door, or I open the dishwasher when I want the fridge! I’m losing my freakin’ mind, I tell ya.

I haven’t been able to do this for years… or the names of objects. I have to describe it. You know…the thingie… with the turn-on knobby things that let the gas out, that has the grate thingie with the bars on it… THE GRILL! smdh…

I’m only 62. It can only go downhill from here.

I am coming up on 50 and had this for as long as I remember, so for me it’s just common or garden brain malfunction or stupidity. In meetings I took to always sketching out in my notebook the table with peoples seating positions and names or initials, and a short list of names I might need of people who are not there.Teams meetings solves that for me.

One of my friends is also a coworker. We were out to dinner last Friday and I kept putting my hand to my waist to check if I was wearing my work badge.

Due to home office I’ve worn my badge 4 days this year. Last Friday was not one of those days.

The Mrs. and I regularly compare notes about who did the dumbest thing on any given day. Then we sing a fave Dylan tune together: “We’re idiots, babe. It’s a wonder we can even feed ourselves”.

Very therapeutic.

Now, back to work. Where’s my damn stethoscope? Oh, it’s around my neck. Where I’ve kept it for 4+ decades.

One of the features activated a few months ago for Alexa was “Call my phone.”

I’m not gonna tell you how many times I’ve used it since then.